


Tommy Time: When Horror Comes to Life

by MindNoise



Series: Tommy Time [6]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindNoise/pseuds/MindNoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy Time at Halloween.</p><p>Just a little holiday fun. Happy Halloween everyone!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tommy Time: When Horror Comes to Life

Tommy stands on the porch outside the dilapidated house. It’s a small, two story house, probably no more than four rooms on the ground floor. The bluish gray paint on the wood slats is peeling and chipped. He looks around behind him. The night air is crisp and smells of burning wood. The dried orange, yellow, and brown leaves that have blown loose from their trees bounce through the empty yard, pushed by an autumn breeze. It’s Halloween. His favorite time of year. The only night when horror comes to life. 

He looks back at the shabby house. As the door creaks open (of course it creaks) Tommy becomes very aware of how alone he is. A man’s painted face peers around the edge of the door. His face is chalk white with a large black star encompassing his right eye, and his thin lips are red. He smiles at Tommy, then steps into full view. He’s wearing a top hat and a tuxedo with white gloves that button at the wrist. He looks like a deranged magician. 

“Good evening,” he greets Tommy. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Tommy stands still. 

Bowing slightly, the man sweeps his arm in a gesture for Tommy to cross the threshold. 

“Please,” is all he says. 

Tommy hesitates, but steps inside. He expects to step into a room or foyer of some sort, but it’s just the start of a long, narrow hallway going to the right. It’s dark at the end of it. His host closes the door behind him, then steps in front of Tommy to lead the way. As they move down the hall, Tommy can hear scuffling behind the wall. They round the corner to the left and enter a dimly lit kitchen. 

It’s a small kitchen, nothing fancy at all. Dull tile flooring, a small wooden table in the middle of the room, and plain, white appliances. It's hot in here. A short woman in a blue dress, her gray hair in a bun, stands by the stove, wiping her hands on a dingy, white apron. She smiles and pushes her large glasses up her nose.

“Well,” she exclaims. “I declare, I wasn’t sure I’d be getting company this late!” 

Tommy smiles at her and his host disappears back down the hallway. 

“Well come around, come around,” she prompts, waving her hand at him. “Let’s just see what we got here.”

Tommy moves around the table in the middle of the room and stands against the opposite wall. There’s a doorway next to him. The room beyond it is pitch black. His spine tingles at the thought of what might be lurking in the dark. 

“Oh fine,” she yammers, happily. “Now, I’m Mama Rose, and aren’t you a cute one. I do believe you’re the cutest little thing that’s ever turned up in my kitchen.”

Tommy snickers. He likes her. 

"Oh my," she exclaims, eyeing his hair. "How did you get that hair? What kind of color is that?"

"Purple," Tommy says.

"My goodness, I can see now that it is purple!" she laughs. "And you wear it well, isn't that something!"

Tommy’s smile gets bigger.

“Well now, let’s see,” she says, clapping her hands together in front of her. “Are you hungry? Do you need a snack? You just stay right there and I’ll get something together for you, just hold on, darlin’.”

If Tommy were watching this in a movie, he’d be scolding the asshole in the hoodie for just standing there so calmly and trusting this bizarre old woman fussing about the kitchen. Mama Rose is opening and closing cabinets and drawers, chattering at Tommy, when a loud thud shakes the wall behind him. Mama Rose stops, her eyes wide. She looks at Tommy.

“Was that you, darlin’?” she asks.

“Uh...” The fact that Mama Rose looks uneasy makes Tommy suddenly apprehensive. He realizes he's been relaxed in her presence and he shouldn't be.

“Now listen, if that was you, you gotta tell me,” she says holding her hand out to him. “Otherwise, you might be in some trouble.”

A smile breaks out on her face. It’s not so motherly. Tommy takes a step back from her. 

“You know, you gotta watch your back around here, darlin’,” Mama Rose chuckles.

The noise of a chainsaw starting behind him startles Tommy. He shrieks and nearly trips over his own feet. A large man in overalls, wild hair, and a distorted mask that looks like a dead, melting face charges at Tommy from out of the dark room. Tommy’s heart nearly stops. He wants to run but it’s a small kitchen. Mama Rose, who is laughing and talking like nothing out of the ordinary is happening, is blocking the hallway entrance. The hulking man with the chainsaw is blocking the dark room; the only other way out. 

Tommy skitters around the table. Naturally, his assailant chases him, leaving the doorway to the dark room open. Tommy runs through, his mind screaming that he has no idea what’s in here, it could be worse than what he’s running from. Thankfully, Tommy’s fear has tunnel vision and he sees straight ahead to the open door lit by moonlight. He runs as fast as his creepers will let him and rushes through the door, outside. He looks behind him (another stupid horror movie move) and sees nothing following him. In fact, the house is quiet. No man. No chainsaw. No Mama Rose. It’s silent and still. 

As his adrenaline bleeds through his veins in jittery pulses, Tommy starts laughing at himself. 

That was fucking awesome, he thinks. 

He expected Leatherface at some point but not so soon and definitely not inside that rinky dink house. He pushes his hands through his hair, his scalp suddenly cold from the sweat evaporating, and spots a path. He strains his neck to get a look before he walks to it. It’s a dirt road that goes behind the woods. He has no flashlight and the LED light on his phone would really be useless. Besides, the moon is full and bright, and he can see just fine. 

He shoves his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie and starts walking. The wide, dirt path is eerily deserted. Tommy can't hear anything ahead of him, behind him, or in the woods on either side of him. He looks up at the sky. It's a very clear night. He starts chewing on the inside of his cheek, a habit he has no idea he even does, and hears footsteps scuffing up behind him on the dirt path. He glances behind him. A man dressed in ill fitting, ragged clothes is walking up fast. He's looking at the ground, mumbling to himself. When he gets next to Tommy, his gait slows, and he raises his head. 

"They said I'm okay now," the guy tells him. "I'm okay I'm okay I'm okay. Okay."

Tommy nods, "That's good."

"Yeah," he agrees. "Do you believe in zombies?"

"No," Tommy says. 

"Me neither," the man agrees. "I think people watch too much tv. Gets their brains all stirred up, they get all kinds of crazy ideas and start acting weird. Like that zombie apocalypse or whatever."

They walk on.

"Hey, do you know what time it is?" he asks Tommy.

"No," Tommy says.

"DAMN IT!" he screams, balling up his fists. He turns on his heel and stomps back the other direction, away from Tommy. 

Tommy only half watches him go, speeding up his own steps. He can hear things rustling and chittering (and was that a giggle?) in the woods on either side of him now.

The path ends at the mouth of a large stone archway with gas lamps standing on either side. It's looks medieval. The archway is guarded by a man in robe with a hood covering his face. He says nothing, but points Tommy through the archway. Tommy walks through.

He steps into a makeshift set of Friday the 13th. There's a cabin in front of him with a sign 'Welcome to Camp Crystal Lake' positioned just to the left of the corner.

So fucking awesome, he thinks, smiling to himself and walks up the wooden ramp into the cabin. 

Inside, there's a tv against the left wall, its channel on static. There's a human figure sitting in the armchair in front of it, its back to Tommy. Tommy stops and looks around, taking it all in. There’s a cot in the far corner, a bedside table, a suitcase in the floor, two orange life jackets and an oar tossed in a corner. He looks back at the figure in the chair. It's not moving, could be a sawdust stuffed dummy. 

He walks to the cot, looking over the table for anything interesting. He's not a thief but he could be persuaded to snatch some sort of souvenir from this room. He reaches for the book with no discernible title lying on the table when a large butcher knife lands next to it. He pulls his hand back so fast that he falls onto the cot. He looks up into a cracked hockey mask. Tommy squeaks as Jason pulls the knife free and advances on him. 

When Jason brings his arm down again, Tommy scoots to the right, and the knife plunges into the thin mattress. Tommy, looking back at this masked figure he's seen time and time again in movies, hauls ass through the second door and out of the room. Jason doesn't follow. 

Tommy finds himself walking a fenced in path outside, leading to another enclosed room. He puts his hands on his chest, making sure he's still all there, and huffs out a breath. He sees the open doorway to the next room in front of him. An eerie blue light illuminates it. 

He stands in front of the Myers house where Michael murdered his sister on Halloween. The two story, off-white house isn’t impressive. There’s nothing special about it’s structure or appearance. But Tommy's in awe. The legendary killer of the house is tattooed on his forearm. One of the best horror movies ever, in his opinion.

He steps onto the porch. Of course he's going to try the door. But it's locked. Never mind it’s not even a real house. He backs down the steps, looking up at the bedroom windows. When he backs into a solid mass, his heart thumps hard and he turns around. Tommy's not the tallest man in the world, but the Michael Myers towering over him seems to be nine feet tall. Tommy's eyes widen. Michael takes slow steps forward, crowding Tommy's space, forcing him to step elsewhere only to have Michael follow. 

"Um...dude...what," Tommy mutters, trying to step around the hulking masked man. 

Michael leans over him. Tommy backs up, wide eyed. Michael stares at him with dead eyes and reaches out both hands to grab Tommy by the arms. Tommy ducks and runs to the side, through the next doorway and down another fenced in path. His nerves are high strung and starting to wind down, and he giggles. His spine tightens again as he approaches the next room. 

He enters what appears to be an attic. Its walls and floors are constructed of unfinished wood panels. The ceiling is sloped. The room is dusty and the air is dry. There’s a drawing table next to one wall, a work bench next to another. Puppets dangle from their strings on hooks and nails in the walls and ceiling. Old trunks and crates are piled on top of each other, some open with dolls and wood chips and shredded paper falling out of them. There’s a large sign on the wall that reads TOYS in block letters. A man-size puppet sits in the corner on a stool. Its face is painted like a clown, the red lips stretched in a garish smile, the black eyes glowering. Its strings are draped loosely over its shoulders. Its white gloved hands twitch. 

“Oh my god,” Tommy declares. “The puppet master!” 

He turns in place, staring around him. He takes in the wood, the dust, the painted and sometimes broken dolls. He feels like a child that has found a large toy box. He grins with delight. 

“Oh look, boys and girls,” an old man says, shuffling into the room. “We have a guest.”

Tommy stares at the old man. He’s wearing black dress pants and a white shirt with a vest and tie, but also a carpenter’s apron. The pockets of the apron hold a hammer, a chisel, and long nails. He looks like someone’s grandfather.

He stands in front of Tommy. “I’m Mr.Toulon. Who are you, child?” 

“Tommy.”

“Ah, perfect,” Toulon beams. “Perfect name. Perfect face. Indeed.”

“Face?” Tommy asks.

“Oh yes,” Toulon says. “You’ll make an exquisite doll. Especially with that interesting hair.”

The puppet master steps forward. Tommy steps back. 

“Beautiful,” Toulon remarks. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

Tommy begins glancing around him for the way out.

Toulon pulls out the chisel from his pocket. “Yes, we’ll keep the bone structure, but the rest inside has to go, I’m afraid.”

The man-sized puppet in the corner rises from its stool. Tommy gasps, his gut clenching and tingling.

“No, don’t be afraid,” Toulon tells him. “Jester is just going to help me.”

Tommy looks frantically around the room as Toulon and Jester move forward. 

“If you’ll just hold still this will go a lot faster, Tommy,” Toulon chides. 

Tommy sees the door that will lead him out of this room and he runs for it. Jester is close enough to brush his fingers against Tommy’s arm as he runs past, and Tommy squeals at that touch, but not close enough to grab him. The cool air hits Tommy in the face. He glances over his shoulder. Nothing is following him so he stops running. 

He hesitates outside the next room. It’s pitch black inside with a big red arrow pointing to another doorway mere inches from the doorway outside of which he’s standing. He looks around him. Nothing. Nobody. No sign of life except him. He looks back at both doorways, takes a deep breath, and plunges in. 

The second doorway is actually the start of a maze. A maze in the dark. There is not one speck of light whatsoever and it makes him uneasy. He puts his hands out to feel his way, having no real idea if the way he’s going or feeling is even the right way to get out. And he can’t turn around. He’s disoriented enough, if he turns around to go back the way he came.... What if he never finds his way out? What if he gets lost for good? What if no one ever finds him? 

Tommy forces himself to keep moving forward. He doesn’t like this at all. He’s not claustrophobic but he can feel the dark pressing in, weighing him down like a ton of bricks. He’s trying not to panic but his breaths become short and shallow. His hands are ice cold and sweat slides down his face. He bumps into walls and corners and edges of the maze. 

Relief floods him when he sees a glimmer of light ahead and he moves faster, reaching for it with his hands like a lifeline. The light is cast from a large cylindrical tunnel that’s turning. It’s embedded with large, round, multicolored lights. The tunnel is not turning particularly fast, but Tommy sees there’s a plank raised and leading straight through it with handrails on each side of it. Easy.

He steps assuredly onto the plank. The colored lights are hypnotic and the slow, steady turn of the tunnel quickly throws Tommy off balance. He’s dizzy and his eyes can’t figure out where to focus. He begins to stumble. Then he feels himself actually leaning far to the left, walking sideways as if he were turning with it. He feels like soon he’s going to be upside down and landing flat on his head. He grabs the rail, trying not to fall, and laughs. What a mind fuck! 

He makes it out all too soon. On the other side is a small clearing outlined by trees and a crooked wooden fence. A graveyard. 

Last stop, he thinks and grins slightly at his own wit.

The headstones range in size from small oval shaped stones jammed into the ground to large monuments randomly set down. He sees Adam leaning against one of the monuments, hands in his jacket pockets. He smiles and Tommy hurries to him.

“How was it?” Adam asks. 

“Oh god that was cool,” Tommy says. “Thanks for setting this up. You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” Adam shrugs. “But I know how much you love your horror movies and it’s difficult for you to go to these things now without being mobbed. Besides, they want to open this place next weekend and were very open to a trial run. I thought this would be a perfect Tommy Time.

“Definitely!” Tommy exclaims. “That was a lot creepier going through alone.”

Adam smiles, tucking Tommy under his arm, and kissing the top of his head. 

“Sorry, kitty,” he says. “I love Halloween but I can’t do the haunted house stuff. I’d end up frozen in place screaming like a girl.” 

“Shame there are people around,” Tommy says casually.

“Why?” Adam looks sideways at him.

Tommy smiles, taking Adam’s hand and placing it over his bulging crotch.

“You’re kidding,” Adam snorts. “How does this stuff turn you on?”

“I think it’s just finding you in a graveyard that’s turning me on,” Tommy replies. 

“You’re fucking twisted, Tommy Joe,” Adam laughs. He squeezes Tommy’s bulge for good measure, reveling in the groan it pulls from him. Tommy lays his head on Adam’s shoulder, breathing into Adam’s neck. 

“Unbelievable,” Adam murmurs. 

“Home now,” Tommy says softly, wrapping his arms around Adam’s waist. 

Adam tightens his hold around Tommy’s shoulders and leads him away from Horror Row.


End file.
